May 2016

05/19/2016

With my son nearing the end of his senior year in high school, I wanted to write him a letter and put it in his brown paper bag lunch this morning, but I didn’t. He will read this though, and hopefully understand what I am trying to say.

“Dear Son,

I’m sure you noticed something a little different about your peanut butter and jelly sandwich at lunch today. At least I hope you did. I understand that you are used to having it the ‘usual’ way, but last night I needed to make it a different way.

05/15/2016

We don’t know the date or time or how, but from a mathematical perspective, the probability is 1, or a sure thing that we will all eventually “die” or leave this world. Like many people, I have this list of things that I would like to do “before I die.” The list changes, sometimes growing and sometimes shrinking.

In the past, I’ve included things like going to Iceland, performing at the Grand Ole Opry and jumping over a picnic table and successfully landing on my skateboard one more time. Maybe I’ll get to go to Iceland, maybe I’ll even get the opportunity to tell a story at the Grand Ole Opry, but I’m kind of getting over the need to jump over a picnic table again, because the probability of success is not as good as it used to be and I have an aggregate driveway. You know, the kind with little rocks in it…

05/13/2016

We are checking out at the grocery store - all of the impulse items are there within close range, where you have to study them while you wait. Candy, chewing gum, beef jerky, lip balm, batteries and the magazines with pretty women and pretty food. You’ve seen the headlines. “30 Meals You Can Make While You Sleep,” “Dog Rescues Goldfish from Toilet,” and “How to Make Your Mate Obey Your Every Command.”

It seems that these magazines are generally there to give the latest Hollywood, Country Music and Political gossip. However, they are often there to give people (most of the time women) advice on cooking, looking nice and driving men crazy.

I enjoy cooking magazines, looking nice kind of falls to the floor along with my hair and honestly women don’t need a magazine to drive men crazy. They can smile, wave or just say “Hi” and that does it for a lot of fellows. They just want your five dollars for the magazine.

05/10/2016

I’ve been looking at white hats. I can’t decide the type of hat I need for the task at hand; I’m trying to decide between a Fedora, a Gatsby/Newsboy or a Panama.

Recently, I received an email from my community organization noting, “Come and share your Bocce Skills or learn to play amongst friends. All ages are welcome. We will have league interest sign-ups available too.”

So therefore, I pictured myself in white pants, a white golf shirt and some sort of snappy white hat. I’m not sure what the uniform for Bocce is, but I envision a “Mr. Clean” look with a snappy white hat. You’re out on the lawn, rolling balls, maybe enjoying drinks with little umbrellas and discussing the complex geometry of the balls banging against one another.